


Forget the World

by BigBadLittleRed



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: George O'Malley Lives, Injury Recovery, M/M, Season 5 finale AU, Seizures, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: They always did have that weird bond Alex never really got; it annoyed the crap out of him for so long. He acted like he didn’t know what Izzie saw in George, but he understood to an extent. There’s something to be said about the guy, about his skills, about his vulnerability and empathy. He understood Izzie, she understood George. That’s probably what pissed Alex off the most.“Alex?” He looks back to Meredith.“I’m staying.” He mumbles.(Or, George lives instead of Izzie.)
Relationships: Alex Karev/George O'Malley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. Passing By to the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( This is my first work for Grey's and I'm kind of nervous about it, I've done a bit of writing and I'm still trying to get the hang of George and Alex. I just really hated George's ending, and I always figured him and Alex could have been really close if George hadn't died. 
> 
> Also George's injuries are a little different, similar but not the same. His face wasn't so badly damaged, so they recognized him when he was brought in instead of not knowing. 
> 
> Hope you like it! )

George is walking down a long and empty hallway, familiar and yet not exactly right. The lighting is different, it seems to seep from the walls rather than coming from a specific source. The glow is far more prominent, and yet simultaneously softer. His feet move of their own accord, he doesn’t feel solid in the slightest as he approaches the steel doors of the elevator. He looks up, watching the numbers light up as the car rumbles to the top.

The gentle ding to notify its arrival is the only noise he can hear, and it echoes in his head as the doors slide open. Standing just inside is Izzie, looking beautiful and radiant. She’s dressed in a ball gown, and when she meets his gaze, there’s a brief hint of confusion followed by understanding. There’s a slight pull, like a magnetic force compelling him forward.

No words are shared, Izzie and George move simultaneously towards one another. They fold into each other’s arms, he can feel how warm she is, how soft. She moves first, pulling from his embrace smoothly. She steps from the doorway of the elevator; he turns his head to watch her.

Their fingertips brush, he turns fully and takes a step back, entering the elevator. Their positions are now mirrored from before, and they lock eyes again. Izzie smiles, something sad and soft, and he _knows_. He tries to memorize the way she looks, every line and curve, the sparkle in her eye. He lifts a hand in a feeble attempt at a wave, and her smile broadens into something more genuine. The elevator doors start to shut, and they stare at each other until the steel parts them.

The elevator starts its descent, and the lower it goes, the darker it gets. He can hear noise, muffled chatter, panicked arguing. The steady flatline of a monitor sings him to sleep.

~

The hospital is filled with a heavy energy, a quiet that seeps into the very structure of the building. Everyone had been in a disarray all day, with Izzie’s surgery and George’s announcement of joining the army. It only seemed to dissolve further into chaos when George returned to the hospital brutally injured after being struck down by a bus. Almost at the same time, as if it were some cosmic event, both doctors went down.

In a matter of minutes, two beloved staff members of Seattle Grace flatlined. Unfortunately, only one was revived. In the OR, George flatlined twice, but despite the damage and the odds, they got him back. The victory was short lived, because only minutes later, Izzie was pronounced dead. Meredith had to pry Alex away, and he had collapsed with her onto the floor. It felt like an eternity for everyone nearby, to listen to the stoic that once was Alex Karev sob uncontrollably in his friend’s arms.

Isobel Stephens’ body is on a slab in the morgue downstairs, and George is clinging to life in the ICU. Meredith, Cristina, and Alex end up holed up in the resident locker room waiting for any news. Nobody has come to bother them; nobody has dared even go near them. They’re just sitting around the table in the corner of the room, every breath somehow more painful than the last. Meredith had updated them on George’s situation earlier, on how he had been doing and what they were doing now, but since then it had been quiet. The silence has stretched on so long that neither Meredith nor Cristina are comfortable breaking it. Alex had laid his head down on the table, hiding his face in his arms, and not moved aside from the occasional jerking of his shoulders as he is overwrought with grief.

Meredith had left Bailey to get in touch with Izzie’s mother, hesitant to leave Alex by himself. He hadn’t lashed out like she had expected, sure he had the initial breakdown when it happened and threw some things, but he hadn’t continued to lash out at them. They had all expected more, but it seemed like Alex was too busy imploding to explode. Nobody dared touch him, not since he had peeled himself off Meredith earlier.

Now, hours had passed, and the evening has grown much later. George’s internal injuries had been repaired, it was now only a watch and wait scenario. If he lasted until the morning without any complications, he’d likely survive. But Meredith had seen the films, and an open-book pelvic fracture is severe. That, along with the avulsion of his arm, the broken ribs, broken clavicle, the damage to his sciatic nerve and other organs. He was looking at months of recovery, possibly years.

His mother had been called immediately upon his arrival. He had been badly hurt; half of his face had taken a brunt of road rash. But the other half wasn’t so bad, they had all recognized him in a heartbeat. Mrs. O’Malley was likely already in the waiting room, hopefully not alone. Meredith can’t handle seeing her right now, doesn’t think she can stomach anything except just sitting here.

When the door opens, Cristina and Meredith turn their heads. Derek looks at them uncomfortably from the doorway, hesitating only briefly before stepping inside and allowing the door to shut behind him. He approaches, a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“How’s George?” Meredith’s voice is a bit scratchy with disuse.

“I’m cautiously optimistic.” He informs them with a ginger smile. “His BP is stable, no signs of infection.”

“Good,” Meredith exhales tiredly, her eyes shifting over to where Alex still hasn’t lifted his head. “That’s good.”

“Can I get you anything?” Derek asks quietly, and though it’s directed towards Meredith, his eyes briefly glance over to Alex.

“No, thank you.” Meredith murmurs.

~

George makes it through the night, and the next morning the three find themselves finally stepping out of the little bubble they had created in the break room. None of them had gone home, they hadn’t eaten or slept either. They had just sat at that table, and surprisingly Alex hadn’t run off. Instead, he had followed them sullenly up to George’s room.

They all hesitantly gather around him; Meredith takes the chair next to the bed and automatically places her hand atop George’s. Cristina moves to take the chart at the end of the bed, scanning the contents while Alex stands awkwardly a few feet away. His arms are tightly crossed, bloodshot gaze focused on the nearby wall.

Cristina reads some of his stats aloud, digesting the information as she shares them with them. Alex isn’t listening, he can’t process this right now. George is breathing, he’s alive, he’s still trying to process that Izzie is… Tears briefly well into his eyes, he blinks them away quickly and breathes out shakily. Meredith looks to him, and he turns away, putting his back to the bed.

He sees Mrs. O’Malley and Bailey step up to the room and come inside, pausing at the sight of them. Bailey gives Alex a look, that stupid look of concern and empathy that makes him want to send his fist through a wall. He just glares at the floor as she walks past him over to the bed. Mrs. O’Malley follows her, Meredith hops up.

Alex tunes out the conversation after that, he walks over to one of the chairs placed against the wall and sinks down in it. He’s exhausted, but he knows that if he were to lay down and try to sleep, he wouldn’t be able to. At least out here, he’s not completely alone with his thoughts, even if they are louder than anything else happening around him.

“Alex,” He blinks, looking up to find Meredith standing nearby. “I’m going home to take a shower; do you want a ride?”

He turns his head, the only other people in the room are George and his mother. She’s clutching her son’s hand in both of her own, her focus entirely on him. He thinks of Izzie, of what she would be doing right now. She had woken up and been so worried about George joining the army, she always worried about George. He’d probably wake up wanting to know what happened to her, he’d be worried too.

They always did have that weird bond Alex never really got; it annoyed the crap out of him for so long. He acted like he didn’t know what Izzie saw in George, but he understood to an extent. There’s something to be said about the guy, about his skills, about his vulnerability and empathy. He understood Izzie, she understood George. That’s probably what pissed Alex off the most.

“Alex?” He looks back to Meredith.

“I’m staying.” He mumbles.

“Oh,” Meredith blinks, shoots a glance over to the bed, then quickly nods. “Okay.”

Then, she’s gone, and Alex is alone with George and his mother. He figures he’ll just stay quiet, wait for just a while longer. When George’s loud and annoying brothers come in like bulls in a china shop, he’ll take off. But as the quiet stretches on, it seems to become too much for Mrs. O’Malley.

“I-I heard about what happened.” She says, sounding tearful. “Izzie was George’s best friend, I’m sure he’ll be crushed. Sh-She seemed like a wonderful woman.”

Alex’s chest feels tight, he breathes in and out in equal measures.

“We’ve always heard so much about all of you,” She continues, sniffling. “Georgie’s friends, he speaks so highly of you all.”

A disbelieving huff escapes him without his permission. “I’m sure.”

“He says you’re so good with patients, and no matter how hard you try to hide it, he knows you care.” She explains.

There’s quiet for a moment, Alex refuses to say anything.

“You know what he calls you?” He looks up, she has a shaky smile on her face. “Mr. Smooth.”

A laugh escapes him, something with just an edge of insanity to it. They laugh together, Alex drops his face into his hands and smiles against his palms until it hurts. Until tears soak his fingers, and his shoulders shake with each sobbing laugh. He cannot believe this is his life, and it is complete and total agony.

Eventually, he finds the strength to pull himself together slightly, lifting his head. Mrs. O’Malley is staring at him sadly as he uses his palms to wipe away some of the wetness on his face. He clears his throat, sitting back. “I should go.”

“Stay, please.” She says as he stands. “I-I don’t want to be here all by myself.”

He hesitates, then reaches back to hitch his fingers into the arm of the chair. He slides the chair over to the bed, sitting down on the other side of George. He sighs as he settles in, looking over at George briefly before reaching to the foot of the bed and grabbing the chart there. He hadn’t taken time to really process what they had been talking about earlier, but Cristina was right to say that things were looking good. George got lucky, with all that happened and went wrong at the beginning.

“I started praying the second I hung up with Dr. Bailey,” Mrs. O’Malley says, eyes back on her son. “I already lost Harold, and that was hard enough. T-To lose my baby, my sweet little Georgie…” She lets out a sob of a noise, sniffling as she reaches up and uses her thumb to gently caress his unmarred cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“He’s lucky to have you.” He allows, scanning over the information on the paper before him.

“Dr. Bailey was telling me that he’s doing okay.” She says, obviously seeking confirmation.

“A lot of it depends on how his body reacts to the surgery, but so far it’s looking okay.” He looks up, offers a small smile that feels brittle. “He’s fighting. And you of all people should know how stubborn he is.”

That earns him a quiet laugh that sounds only a fraction of how hysterical Alex’s own had been, she nods her head. “That he is.” She looks to her son with adoration, and he feels a pang as he thinks of his own mother.

His thoughts drift to Izzie again, he puts the clipboard away and leans back in his chair. He wants to curse someone, the cosmic existence, the gods, something. He knows how unfair and unpredictable life can be, but he hasn’t been able to rid himself of the pit in his stomach. At least here, he can fight the tears for posterity sake. He can look at George and reassure himself that he still has some control. Because he knows the second he’s left alone, he’s just going to break down again.

“They told me he saved a girl’s life.” She mentions. “Do you if she’s okay, have you met her?”

“Meredith said it was just someone off the street, and that she had minimal injuries.” He shakes his head. “I could say a lot of things about your son, but I could never say that he’s not a hero.”

When he sees the look on Mrs. O’Malley’s face, he points a finger at her. “Don’t tell him I said that; he’ll get smug.”

“You care about him.”

“I…” He thinks about it for a moment. “I’ve never been very good about having friends. I got put on their team at the last minute and got lucky.” He explains to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s a good guy, it’s hard to hate him.” He pointedly doesn’t mention that he’s done it before anyway.

“I’m happy to hear that.” She smiles at him, reaching out and gingerly placing a hand on George’s knee. “Honey, no offense but you seem like you’re just about ready to pass out. Maybe you should go home and get some sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping any time soon.” He replies with a huff. “Where are your other sons?”

“Wouldn’t you know it, they left to go hunting in Alaska a day or so ago. They’re supposed to be flying back, but there was a delay on their flight because of some snowstorm.” She sighs.

“I’ll stay with you, then.” He offers, dropping a hand onto the bed.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve been through the wringer already.” She reaches over George’s legs, puts her hand on his and squeezes it.

“You didn’t ask, I’m offering.” He says, turning his hand in hers to return the gentle grip awkwardly.

There’s quiet for a moment, as Mrs. O’Malley looks back to her son thoughtfully. Then, she speaks. “He was right.”

“About what?”

“That you care.”

Alex definitely doesn’t blush.

~

They end up spending the day together, and it feels good to talk to someone that isn’t looking at him with pity. He tells her stories, nothing related to any of the sex scandals, because that’s just wrong. He talks about some of their most exciting cases, about how every day at Seattle Grace feels like walking into a circus. Mrs. O’Malley (Louise, please) seems to like hearing about it all, about all the good and bad parts.

Louise, in return, tells him all sorts of stories, about her husband and her sons. She understands what it’s like to lose someone you love, hell, she had Harold a lot longer than he had Izzie. He doesn’t know who’s worse off in those respects. Is it better to have had all that time, or did it only make it that much harder to let them go?

Either way, it seems like Louise knows just how to distract him from it all.

He hears more about George than he ever thought he would. They sit in the cafeteria for a brief period of time and she tells him all about George being asked out as a joke for junior prom by one of the popular girls in his school. How crushed he had been when he drove to pick her up only to realize her address was an abandoned house downtown. How senior year he found out some guy did the same thing to a sophomore girl he was in band with, and he showed up at her house and explained the whole thing and took her himself.

Every time he thinks that he’s heard all of the stories, it seems like Louise has another up her sleeve. From picking flowers for all the teachers in kindergarten to pulling down a school bully’s pants in fourth grade. That one Louise claims she doesn’t condone, but they laugh about it for way too long for that to be true.

And sure, Alex knows he’s taken the piss out of George time and time again, but he knows that he’s got drive where it counts. He apparently gets his more vicious side from having older brothers, which Alex only understands after having met Ronny and Jerry. George was the black sheep of the family, his brothers tormented him. It sort of makes sense that he’s able to take so much shit considering the stuff he hears about what went on at home.

Mrs. O’Malley has been explaining funnily enough, the time that George became fed up with his brother’s tendency to tackle and pin him. This had led to a series of George trying to find out how to fight back, which didn’t work considering he was twelve and Jerry was fifteen. This eventually led to George going to some extreme and rather disgusting measures to prevent being touched let alone wrestled.

“George did that?” Alex laughs as they’re stepping back in the room.

“That was the last time Jerry tried to wrestle him for quite a while.”

“I would hope so.” Alex scoffed in amusement.

When they return to the bed, George is still where they left him. The ventilator is hissing rhythmically in time with the monitor, and he’s still out. The sight of him sobers them both a bit, quieting down as they approach the bed once more. They’ve put him in a medically induced coma to prevent further damage to his brain. Alex had seen the burr holes, read about his subdural hematoma in his chart. He’d likely be out until tomorrow, maybe the next day if there’s too much risk of swelling.

He looks like crap, one side of his face scraped to hell and bruised to shit. Sloan had tended to most of the wounds, but Alex knows when a wound is gonna scar and he’s looking at significant scarring on his cheek and forehead. He got dragged by a bus, that’s starting to sink in now that Alex is feeling mildly better. His head feels clearer, he can look at George without his head being somewhere else.

He was never close to George, he’d never claim that, but he damn well didn’t deserve something like this. They all had nicknames of him to point out how soft he was, compared him to a puppy and called him baby boy. It had been a game for Alex, just to tease him, but he knows how it garners a little truth. Alex watches Louise go to her son’s side, leaning over to kiss his forehead where it’s unmarred. She then gently pushes back his hair, or really what remains of it considering that they shaved patches into either side of his head for the burr holes.

“Would you mind explaining it all to me again? Dr. Bailey did before, but I was just so impatient to see him.” Louise asks of him, sitting down in her chair. “And don’t sugarcoat it, I want to know the truth.”

Alex nods his head slowly, reaching out and picking up the clipboard. “The main injuries consist of a subdural hematoma, avulsion of the arm, broken clavicle and ribs, and an open-book pelvis fracture that led to several internal injuries.” He pauses to clear his throat, glancing up at her warily before continuing. “The subdural hematoma basically means that his brain got injured when he was hit, and that’s why he has the holes there.”

“What are the holes for?” She tucks her hand into her son’s as Alex sits back down in his chair.

He takes a second to think about it, then begins. “They’re called burr holes; they drill just into the skull to relieve pressure. When he was hit, there was bleeding, and they had to open up his head to let the blood out.”

“Will he have brain damage?” She questions, fearfully hesitant.

“We likely won’t know that until he wakes up, but they did some scans, and he does have brain wave activity which is a good sign.” He admits, opening the clipboard.

“Oh.” Louise nods her head, looking as if she’s trying to remain hopeful. “A-And you said something about his… pelvis?”

“An open-book pelvic fracture, it’s when the pelvis gets broken open. Think of it like a circle.” He sets the clipboard in his lap, making a circle with his hands before pulling them apart on one end gently. “The pelvis splits apart or is cracked open, which can splinter into the organs in the pelvic cradle.”

Louise nods once more, though there are tears in her eyes. “A-And they fixed that, right?”

“Yes, they went in and they sewed up any injuries to his organs. Then they used screws and plates to piece his pelvis back together.” He admits, cringing down at the clipboard. He knows it must be hard to hear, he’s never really been squeamish, but he likes this lady and he’s kind of friends with George so it’s different.

“Will that affect how he walks?” She asks, teary eyed.

“It might.” He admits. “He’ll have to go through physical therapy, and there was damage to his right sciatic nerve so that might add to it. It really depends on a lot of stuff, nothing’s certain.” 

“Is anything?” Louise sounds mildly hopeless when she laughs weakly.

“Sorry.” He says with a shrug, feeling a bit helpless.

“Mom!” They both startle, and Alex turns his head to see the other two O’Malley boys spilling into the room, practically fighting to get to their destination first.

“Is Georgie okay?” Ronny questions as Jerry dives into his mother’s arms for a hug the second she’s on her feet.

“Oh, man.” Jerry murmurs as he pulls from his mother’s embrace, laying eyes on his brother.

“Are you his doctor?” Ronny looks at Alex warily, he slowly gets to his feet.

“Boys, this is Georgie’s friend Alex. He was just explaining everything.” She tells them.

“Are you gonna fix him?” Jerry asks.

“He’s in a medically induced coma to prevent his brain from swelling.” Alex says, holding up a hand in a calming gesture. “We don’t have all the answers right now.”

“Man, you guys suck.” Ronny snaps. “First dad, now Georgie. M-Maybe we should just take him somewhere else.”

“Ronny.” Louise says reproachfully.

Jerry pipes up, then. “No, he’s right. Why should we trust you when you’re about as old as Georgie?”

“How about some respect for your brother?” Alex snaps, losing his patience.

“Excuse me?” Ronny and Jerry are both glaring at him now.

“Karev, what in the hell is going on in here?” Bailey enters, and Alex feels himself deflating slightly. “Go home, you’re officially off the clock until further notice.”

Alex grits his teeth and forces himself to take a deep breath, turning on his heel and storming out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( I hope you enjoyed this! I know there's not a lot of content for George, but I started watching just a few months ago. I never got past early season 6, I felt like they made a huge mistake just killing George rather than writing him out somehow. 
> 
> Anyways, tell me what you thought or leave a kudos if you liked! Thanks for reading! )


	2. The Funeral

Alex goes to the funeral, but he doesn’t really attend it so much as hover nearby. He let Izzie’s mother handle most of it, he could barely talk to her on the phone let alone look at her. He eventually ends up hiding behind a mausoleum, the tears rising and receding like ocean tide. He hasn’t slept since it happened, he can’t sit idly for more than a few minutes without feeling like he’s going insane.

He misses Izzie so bad it’s like physical pain in his chest.

He’s been back to the hospital, but Bailey’s got him doing scut work. He hasn’t gone near the O’Malley family simply because he knows he got too heated the last time. He doesn’t want to start shit with George’s brothers, it would be pointless. The only people he’s really talked to since that day are Meredith and Bailey, anyone else he just walks off in the other direction before they can open their mouths. He can’t ignore Bailey because she’ll kick his ass. And Meredith, well, she’s sort of a sad sack like he is.

He can see her from his vantage point, peeking around the corner of the mausoleum. The priest is still giving his eulogy, talking about early deaths and the meaning of life. He winces when Meredith spots him, shrinking back behind the mausoleum and hoping he’s left to his own misery. Of course, he’s never that lucky.

“What are you doing over here?” Meredith, and oh look, she’s got Cristina with her. Great.

“Leave me alone.”

“You are her husband.” Meredith hisses.

“She’s _dead_!” Alex snaps, eyes starting to grow damp. “Izzie is dead, I _was_ her husband and now she’s dead.” He sinks down onto the concrete base of the mausoleum. “She died.”

“So you think, what, she just wants you to rot?” Meredith sits down next to him. “Izzie wants you to wither away and rot, is that it?”

“You don’t know anything.” He grunts.

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to grieve.” Meredith sits down next to him, leaving just a bit of space between them. “I’m just saying that locking yourself away and shutting everyone out is not the way to do it.”

“I’m not telling you about my feelings.”

Cristina scuffs a shoe in the grass nearby. “Maybe you could get a journal, that involves way less feelings. More specifically way less feelings that I have to hear about.”

Alex shoots her a dark look and she shrugs her shoulders at him. “What? I’m just saying.”

“Cristina’s right, sort of.” Meredith tells him. “You just need to find your own outlet, and to figure out how to move on from this.”

“Move on.” Alex echoes her, feeling a bit lost.

“Yeah, I mean think of it this way. At least you didn’t get hit by a bus.” Cristina tells him.

A startled laugh escapes him, and when he looks up, Cristina is smirking a bit. He glances over at Meredith, who is hiding a smirk behind her hand. He can feel the build-up of laughter shaking his chest, and he quickly reaches up to cover his own mouth to quiet the noise. They all begin to laugh, full-bodied inappropriate laughter.

“O’Malley got hit by a bus!” Alex says shrilly, looking between the other two with a wide grin.

“Meredith dumped Derek right after she gave you her wedding!” Cristina guffaws, which sends them further into hysterics.

“You got married!” Meredith pokes him in the shoulder.

“Izzie got cancer an-and w-we got _married_!” He shakes his head, still laughing. “A-And Izzie died, and we were surprised!”

Their laughter slowly starts to die down, Alex’s cheeks are hurting as his smile begins to fade. He doesn’t feel like crying anymore, but it doesn’t stop the sadness from being there somewhere in his chest. He looks between Meredith and Cristina, both having sobered up slightly as well.

“We knew,” He says, quieter this time. “We knew and that’s why we got married.”

“For her.” Meredith lays a hand on his arm. “So she could have that.”

“So we could have it.” Alex murmurs.

“You were there for her, with her, until the end. That’s all that matters, Alex.” Meredith squeezes his arm gently.

“She told me once that she laughed at funerals.” He shakes his head, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I didn’t really get that until right now.”

They all turn their heads to watch the funeral service slowly break up, people walking back towards their cars. Some people are familiar, others aren’t. The casket has been lowered into the grave, but the hole won’t be filled just yet. Alex watches a few more people walk by, in different states of sorrow. He breathes, in and out, and it doesn’t hurt so bad now.

“You want to go say goodbye?” Meredith asks him, and he slowly nods.

He gets up and goes to say goodbye to his wife.

-

Alex goes back to work for real, and while things will never be the same, he doesn’t feel like he’s seconds from fracturing apart anymore. He goes about his day and finds peace in burying himself in work. No huge cases, but he manages to snag a case that looks like it’ll end in a whipple. Which he’s stoked about. The only difference in his day on his first day back is that he stops by George’s room to see how he’s doing.

Meredith had kept him somewhat updated, but it had only been a few days since everything happened. George had woken up a time or two, half-conscious only briefly before dropping off the earth again. They had only just taken him off the ventilator, and things were looking up. Alex is just glad he won’t be having to go to another funeral again, he doesn’t know if he could handle that.

When he walks into the room, nobody is in there. It’s not extremely strange, Louise probably stepped out with one of her sons or maybe Bailey. When he approaches the bed, he realizes that George is looking much better. He’s gained back some color, and the bruises on his face have gone from red and purple to a more bluish color but the swelling is down. Instead of the ventilation tube, he’s only got a cannula on his face, which is much less daunting.

Alex helps himself to the chart, looking over it to read over any updates.

“Al’x?”

He startles, looking up and finding the other looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Crap, you’re awake.”

He panics for a moment, looking around for any sign of help. Man, he wishes Bailey had been here for this. He sets the clipboard down and walks around the bed, pressing the call button for the nurse. He tilts his head a bit, offering George a smile that he hopes is reassuring enough to keep him from panicking.

“Wh-Where-” George squints one eye closed, the other opening a bit more as he glances around slowly. “S’goin’ on?”

“You’re at Seattle Grace, dipshit. You jumped in front of a bus.” Alex tells him, glancing over the nearby monitor to make sure nothing’s out of sorts before he sinks down in the chair next to the bed.

“Really?” George looks back at him, a small frown on his face.

“Yeah,” He nods, turning to look at the nurse that enters the room. “Page Dr. Bailey and Dr. Shepherd.” He says to her, she nods and steps back out of the room.

“M’I okay?” George shifts the arm that had the muscle torn from it, hissing softly.

“Don’t move.” Alex scolds, earning George’s gaze again. “Generally, you wake up in a hospital bed and it’s common sense to stay somewhat still.”

George’s dried and cracked lips stretch into a small, mildly pained smile. “Sorry.”

“You were out for a few days. Do you remember anything?” Alex asks.

George frowns again, seeming to be thinking quite hard. “Joined the army.”

“Yeah, Bailey’s ready to kick your ass on that one.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “That was stupid, especially if you thought we’d let you leave.”

There’s quiet for a moment, George seems to be thinking about something else. Eventually, he turns his head and looks to Alex with concern. “Izzie okay?”

Alex feels his chest tighten, and for the first time in a day or so, he has the urge to lock himself in a dark room and cry again. He won’t, he can’t keep doing that. But it hits him like a punch in the gut, with the way George is looking at him with that concern. He knew this would happen, but he was hoping someone else would have been able to take this bullet for him. Bailey or Meredith, or hell, Louise.

“Alex?” George’s breath hitches, his mouth trembling. “Where’s Izzie?”

“O’Malley—"

“Don’t!” George snaps, his voice hoarse. “D-Don’t, just…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Please don’t say it.”

Alex reaches out, feeling more than mildly uncomfortable when he places his hand on George’s wrist. George keeps his head turned away, breathing shakily and sniffling quietly as wetness spreads from the corners of his eyes onto his cheeks. Alex ducks his head, using the back of his hand to wipe away at the dampness of his own eyes.

They sit like that for a minute, and Alex manages to steel himself despite listening to George quietly break down. He lost a wife, a lover, and George lost his best friend. It ties them together in a way, it’s unlikely that anyone knew Izzie like they did. He thinks that’s what allows him to keep it together, finding solace in knowing that someone even partially understands the grief he experienced.

George lets out a noise that seems to be a sob that turns into a cough. It obviously hurts, what with the broken ribs and all. He’s wincing as he coughs. Alex reaches nearby to where there’s a pitcher of water and some cups sitting out on tray. He pours some into a cup, hesitating briefly when he realizes that George really can’t hold it by himself. The arm in the sling for the broken collar bone, and the other arm having recently had a chunk of muscle torn from it and sewn back in.

“Here,” He stands, showing George the cup before tipping it to his lips. George takes a cautious sip, clearing his throat as Alex pulls it away.

“Thanks.” George sniffles, his eyes red and glossed over with unshed tears.

He ends up giving George a basic rundown of what happened, of how Izzie’s body just gave up after all the stress of it. He feels hollow as he tells the story, empty inside. It still hurts, like someone scooped out his internal organs and every word sounds weak and hoarse. But George listens, with teary eyes, he listens and seems to hang onto every word. Eventually, he quiets, and they just sit silently together for a while.

After an unspecified period of quiet, Bailey comes strutting into the room, walking right over to the bed. “How is he?”

“Coherent, alive.” Alex mumbles.

Bailey nods her head, seeming satisfied with the answer, before she points an angry finger at George’s face. “O’Malley, you managed to do three of the stupidest things ever in a twenty-four hour period.”

“Three?” George mumbles as she shines a light in his eyes.

“Joined the army, jumped in front of a bus…” She scoffs, pulling her stethoscope forward to slide it under his gown over his chest.

“What’s the third thing?” Alex asks.

“Thinking that I wouldn’t kick his ass for being stupid.” She adds, earning quiet noises of understanding from them both. “If you step a singular toe out of line for the rest of your life, I will be there.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs.

“Good, now that that’s clear.” She leans forward, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again, boy.”

“M’kay.” He nods.

“You got hit by a bus, I’m sure Karev told you.” She says, and after a nod from them both, she continues. “Open-book pelvic fracture caused injury to your large intestine, bladder, and your sciatic nerve. You suffered a hairline fracture to your clavicle and the impact broke three ribs and there is significant bruising.”

George looks to be processing this, but he’s also obviously still reeling from the news about Izzie and everything else. He looks mildly overwhelmed, but he clears his throat. “A-Anything else?”

“You also suffered a subdural hematoma, and Meredith had to assist Dr. Shepherd in administering burr holes.”

“Oh.” George slowly turns his head so he can gaze up at the ceiling. “Dr. Bailey?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“As in you feel like you’re going to pass out or throw up?”

“Both, maybe cry too.” George nods his head, blinking harshly.

Bailey clicks her tongue, sitting down on the edge of the bed at George’s hip and taking his hand. Alex finds himself sitting on the other side of the bed awkwardly. George doesn’t puke or pass out, but he wrenches his eyes shut and breathes shakily for what feels like an eternity. Bailey makes quiet soothing noises. Alex likes Bailey, she’s sort of like a friend, more like a bossy older sister or aunt. But he likes her to an extent.

But to George, Bailey always seemed like a mother. She acted rough on him, but he’d always been her favorite. Hell, he tended to be everyone’s favorite most days. But Bailey, she kept him within reaching distance and gave him whatever cases she had that she needed someone she could really trust to be on. She would probably hit anyone for even suggesting it, but George is her baby. She named her actual baby after him, there’s a lot to that relationship.

He sort of envies it.

Eventually, George seems to gather himself, sniffing and clearing his throat. “D-Did you call my mom?”

“Your brothers took her home for a little while, I believe she’s coming back tonight.”

“Good, that’s…” He sighs, his expression pained. “Good.”

“How’s your pain?” Bailey questions.

“I-I’m fine.” George mutters, though he’s starting to look paler.

“O’Malley, lying to me classifies as stupid.” Bailey reminds him.

George nods his head, exhaling shakily. “I-I think my body is starting to uh, realize I got hit by a bus.”

Bailey gestures to Alex, who reaches for the IV stand to adjust the morphine drip. George is quiet as Bailey checks on his arm, making sure there’s no sign of infection on any of his wounds. Alex stays in his seat, allowing Bailey to check George over properly. He can see the young man getting that foggy look in his eyes, the pain easing around the corners of his mouth.

“Dr. Bailey?” George murmurs.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s reattaching the bandage to his abdomen where they opened him up. “Yes?”

“I don’t want to join the army anymore.”

“Oh, really?” Bailey does glance over at him then, a small smile playing on her face. “Why is that?”

“I’d miss you too much.” He mumbles.

“I would miss you too, you know had you not gotten hit by a bus we were going to have an intervention.” She lowers his gown, shuffling along the bed to where George’s head is. “We had a plan and everything.”

“Really?” George looks vaguely touched, though he also looks a little high so it might just be that.

“Seattle Grace wouldn’t be the same without George O’Malley.”

“That’s sweet.” He smirks. “Didn’t think anyone, a-anyone would miss me all that much.”

“Yet another idiotic idea from Dr. O’Malley.” Bailey huffs. “What makes you think something stupid like that?”

“Just feels like I screwed everything up,” George sighs, turning his head against his pillow. “I’m the black sheep, always have been. I-I just wanted… To make something of myself.” He sighs again, shutting his eyes. “I just wanted people to see me.”

“O’Malley,” Bailey says quietly.

“Feel sick.” George mumbles, voice nearly inaudible, and Alex can see the second his eyes roll up under his lids.

“George?” He leans over the bed, and they both startle when George stiffens and starts to spasm. “He’s seizing.”

“I'll push diazepam, you page Shepherd.” Bailey instructs, and Alex moves accordingly. 


	3. Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Sorry for taking so long, I lost some inspiration and have been switching between fandoms. I'm gonna try to keep this moving, though! )

There are likely far too many people in the room, gathered around looking at George’s CT scans. After the seizure had abated with the help of medication, they had rushed him to CT to get a better idea of what was going on. George had roused and other than being a little disoriented, showed no obvious signs of brain damage. They had left him with his mother and brothers to analyze the results.

“There’s some residual swelling, but no bleeding or structural damage, which is good. We all know seizures can occur with SDHs.” Shepherd says, looking at the results of the CT.

“But post-trauma seizures increase the likelihood of developing epilepsy, right?” Cristina points out.

Shepherd sighs, pinning one of the pictures up onto the board. “Yes, but it’s not a guarantee. It’s only about 25% of those who experience posttraumatic seizures within a week of a brain injury.”

“He got hit with a bus, he’s not doing too well luck-wise right now.” Alex comments.

“Poor George.” Callie murmurs. 

“We’ll have to monitor for any seizure activity and make sure the swelling abates and stays that way.” Shepherd tells them. “I want someone on him at all times until further notice.”

“I’ll do it.” All eyes turn to Alex. “I have a rapport with his mom.”

“You haven’t slept in probably two days, Karev.” Bailey says scoldingly.

“Yeah, wh-why are you even here right now?” Shepherd questions, which just makes Alex’s blood boil.

“That’s my business.”

“I’ll do it.” Meredith says, stepping forward and looking to Alex. “You can take over for me later if you still want to.”

Alex nods his head, taking a final second to shoot a glare at Shepherd before walking out.

~

He ends up taking some personal time, more or less because of threats from Bailey and Webber. He doesn’t stay home, though, he finds himself still at the hospital. He can’t just mope around at home, it’s pathetic. After the first day, he had gotten dressed the next morning to leave before realizing he didn’t really have anywhere to go.

The only people remotely close to being his family were at the hospital. That led to him thinking about figuring out a way to make it a personal visit, stopping by for lunch or something. Then, he quickly realized that George was still a patient, and therefore visiting hours applied. Plus, maybe Louise would be there, and they could visit. He likes her, she’s all sweet and mother-y in a way that makes him feel comfortable. He’d never admit it, but he missed that sort of presence in his life.

However, George is the only one in the room when he arrives. Apparently, he’d been doing all right, still recuperating. Swelling in his brain had gone down completely. It would be a while until he was doing proper physical therapy and learning to walk again, but he’d been doing it for his arm to make sure his hand and fingers were functioning properly. He’d only heard this from Meredith the day before, when he’d already felt like he was climbing up the walls after a single day at home.

George looks relieved when Alex appears in the doorway, sighing quietly. “You have to save me.”

Alex frowns as he moves further into the room, glancing around. “From what?”

“My mom got uh, a call from her sister, she tripped down her porch steps and scraped up her face, broke her nose.” He explains, peering worriedly behind Alex at the doorway. Alex glances back, but there’s nobody there.

“So?”

“So! She left Jerry and Ronny with me!” He hisses. “I managed to get them to go to the cafeteria b-but they could be back any minute. Get me another room, get me in a wheelchair, do something!”

Alex can’t help the smile growing on his face. “What are you, five? You can’t handle a visit from your big brothers?”

“You’ve met them!” George insists with a groan. “All they want to talk about is cars, and… Football.” He looks like the concept physically pains him, which is quite dramatic for a guy with a pelvis that had recently been stuck back together with screws and plates.

“For a guy who had the balls to jump in front of a bus to save someone, you really are the biggest baby I’ve ever met.” Alex says, stepping closer to the bed. He picks up the clipboard at the base of the bed, reading over some of the newer information.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be… taking time off?” George looks up at him, puzzled.

“Left some stuff in my locker.” He answers as casually and vaguely as he can.

“Like what, a better excuse to be here?” George looks mildly amused now, reclined against his pillow with an air of smugness. “Workaholic.”

“Can it, crash dummy.” Alex snipes back at him, George smirks and emits a quiet snort of a laugh. “How’s your hand?”

“It hurts, b-but they think I’ll regain full function.” He has a sort of melancholic look on his face as he seems to sink further into his pillow. “Hey, c-can I ask you something?”

Alex hooks the file back onto the front of the bed, sighs as he grabs a chair and pulls it closer. He drops down into it. “Fine.”

“Do you…” He glances away, looking nervous and uncertain, before glancing back at him. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”

Alex adjusts in his seat, pondering this for a moment. “I dunno.”

“I was raised Catholic; I was raised to believe in God and heaven a-and hell.” George tells him, pausing to chew on the inside of his mouth, staring down at his lap thoughtfully.

Alex feels unnerved at the mention of anything remotely like this. Like Izzie could be out there somewhere still, out of sight but not exactly gone. He doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or not. That she’s just out of reach, that she’s somewhere beyond pearly gates or whatever the hell. Sounds lame and weird and he doesn’t really want to think about it anymore.

“I saw her,” His head snaps up, meeting George’s wide and haunted eyes with his own.

He wants to ask who, but he’s afraid to know the answer (he already knows). They just stare at each other for a moment, George’s eyes looking redder and waterier by the second.

“I was in the hospital, and I-I was…” He swallows as he briefly looks away again, but Alex can’t take his eyes off him. “The elevator opened, and uh, she was just standing there. Beautiful, dressed in th-this gorgeous pink ballgown.” He lets out a trembling laugh, part sad disbelief and part awe.

He glances up at the ceiling to ward off more tears. Alex’s eyes are stinging, he hasn’t blinked.

“We hugged, a-and she got off. I st-stepped on…” He sniffs, a tear drips down onto his marred cheek. “A-And I knew, I knew somehow. Like an instinct, y’know?”

“O’Malley.” Alex mutters.

“We didn’t speak, I waved because I-I knew. And she smiled, and…” He shakes his head, looking down again.

“Stop it.” Alex snaps.

“Sorry,” He turns his head, uses his shoulder to wipe at his eye. “I just wanted, I wanted you to know.”

“Why would I want to know about that?” He demands, his throat feels so tight it hurts. “Some stupid delirious dream about my dead wife, why would I need to know that?” He snarls.

“Sometimes you don’t get to choose…” He says quietly, and Alex falters, anger replaced by mild confusion. “I got to choose; I didn’t have to get on. She didn’t choose to get off the elevator.”

Alex finds tears welling into his eyes, and even though he doesn’t exactly understand, he does. “You’re an idiot.”

George nods his head, serious. “I know.” He murmurs thickly.

Alex turns and storms out of the room, wiping roughly at his face and keeping his head down. He escapes the hospital at break-neck speed, and the second he’s home he locks himself into his room. Like a race against the clock and the time had just run out, he folds just after the lock is put into place. He drops to the floor and sobs; his hands numb and his chest pulsing with sorrow. He presses his forehead to the door and squeezes his eyes shut, can clearly see her in his head.

She’s gone, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

~

He feels stupid in hindsight, for getting so angry with George. Whether his experience was real or just some dream, it didn’t matter. He’s grieving, just as Alex was. The pain achingly fresh, an open wound that they hadn’t even gotten to stop bleeding yet let alone start healing. Whatever he saw, it was real enough for him, and he wanted to share it with Alex in the hopes that it would soothe him somehow.

He didn’t think it really did, but he figured that the thought George put into telling him counted. He spent the rest of the day mulling that over, and then the next morning he found himself heading out to the hospital again. He makes a stop before he goes in, and then carefully makes his way through the hospital. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, doesn’t want anyone to see him honestly.

When he steps into the room hesitantly, George still seems to be asleep. The room is empty, and for a moment, Alex debates on coming back later. Sure, nobody is there but he likely shouldn’t be waking up a patient who is supposed to be resting. He continues to stand in the doorway, checks his watch and then leans back to look up and down the hall.

What Alex is looking for, he doesn’t know.

He steps inside, keeping himself quiet as he walks over to the bed. He sets the cupcakes he bought on the tray quietly, chocolate with white frosting. Izzie once told him that everyone loved her chocolate cupcakes, but George was the biggest fan of them and could eat a dozen without a sweat. It wasn’t Izzie’s cupcakes, but it was the best thing he could think of.

Cards and balloons seemed lame, and he sure as shit wasn’t getting George a teddy bear with a heart that said ‘Get Well Soon’ on it. So, store bought cupcakes would have to do. As he sets them down, he debates taking off and leaving them behind. George probably wouldn’t know it was him, but that didn’t matter, right? Maybe he would figure it out anyway and save them the awkward conversation.

“Alex,” He turns his head, finding George looking blearily at him.

“Hey,” Alex says awkwardly, glancing down at the container of cupcakes on the tray before gently nudging the tray closer.

“What’s that?”

Alex clears his throat. “Cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes.” George blinks a few times, like he’s unsure if he heard that right.

“You like cupcakes.” He insists, a bit impatiently.

“Did-” George stretches his neck to look at the container properly before looking back up at Alex with caution. “You didn’t fill them with arsenic, did you?”

“No!” Alex snaps, crossing his arms.

A brief pause, then- “Cyanide?”

“O’Malley.” He threatens.

“Sorry, I’ll eat the pois- uh, cupcakes.” He gives Alex a sheepish look when his glare intensifies. “Can I ask, uh, why?”

“Because.”

“Well, that explains everything.” George replies in a sarcastic voice.

“Look, just…” Alex sighs in frustration, looking away. “I’m… sorry for everything.”

“Oh my god, am I dying?” George looks horrified.

“No!” Alex snarls. “But if anyone could have fatal stupidity it’d be you.”

“Karev!” They both startle, looking towards the door where Webber is standing. “Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?”

“I’m visiting a patient.” Alex says, shooting George another mild glare.

“O’Malley?” Webber raises an eyebrow.

“To be honest, I-I don’t really know what’s going on.”

“Look, I even brought him cupcakes.” Alex gestures vehemently to the container.

George looks from the container, to Alex, and then back at Webber. “That’s an admission of guilt, if I die from a poison cupcake you know who did it.”

“You won’t die of arsenic if I strangle you first.” Alex hisses.

“So it is arsenic!” George shouts.

“Okay, now I’m starting to think you’re the one torturing Karev.” Webber says, then looks to Alex. “I’ll remind you that purposeful injury to a patient is grounds for a lawsuit against this hospital. Other than that, you’re both on your own.”

He then turns and walks out, leaving them alone again. George reaches up with the arm that’s not in a sling, opening up the plastic container. Alex sinks into his chair, feeling like he’s been bested somehow. George digs into one of the cupcakes, holding onto it with the hand of the arm that’s in a sling. It must be difficult, having minimal use of one hand and minimal use of the other arm. Alex feels a bit of satisfaction at his suffering for a moment, in some sick way.

“S’this buttercream frosting?” George asks around a mouthful of cupcake, crumbs on his face and icing on his top lip.

“Yes.”

“Awesome.” George nods his head. “Apology accepted, by the way.” He shoves another bite of cupcake into his mouth.

Idiot.

He’s pointedly staring into the distance as George eats his cupcake with voracity. He wishes Louise were here, she could at least embarrass George a little. That was fun at least, otherwise he really didn’t know what to say or do. He knows why he wants to make amends with George, but he doesn’t know why he’s actually trying.

It’s for Izzie, of course, because George was her best friend, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone during this. Surely, he has his family and Meredith is probably around. But he’s divorced now, Yang likes him okay, but he thinks George annoys her in that little brother kind of way. He does have little brother energy, likely from being the baby of the family for his whole life.

George is such a different person compared to Alex; he has no idea how he can do this for Izzie. The cupcakes are a good start, but is that where he wants to leave it?

He looks up, realizing that George has stopped really moving. The cupcake wrapper is still in his hand with a bit of the cake left, his mouth covered with crumbs. But he’s sort of frozen, he’s blinking at a slightly increased interval, though his jaw is still working in something akin to a chewing motion. Alex’s heart ticks up slightly, he leans forward.

“O’Malley?” He tries hesitantly, earning no response. George is just gazing in the middle distance, expression mostly blank if not vaguely confused. “Crap.”

Alex moves forward, tilts his head sideways to look into the other’s eyes. He digs into his pocket, where he habitually keeps a penlight just for things like this. He once had someone hit their head while he was off-duty and felt like an idiot to be a doctor without the ability to test pupillary reaction. He shines the light in the other’s eyes.

“George, can you hear me?”

George’s eyes flutter a bit, he pulls in a sudden deep breath and coughs some cupcake onto his chin in the process. Alex leans back to avoid getting chewed up food on him, George grumbles under his breath and tosses the rest of the cupcake onto the tray to free up the use of his hand to wipe at his face. He looks to Alex then, his cheeks starting to pink.

“S-Sorry.” He mutters, cake messily smeared on his hand and face. “Can… you gimme a napkin?”

“Did you hear me just then?” Alex asks, George makes a face.

“What?”

Alex steps around the bed, handing George a napkin that had been on the tray and hitting the call button for the nurse. George turns his head to watch, still seeming puzzled. “You just blanked out for a good fifteen seconds.”

The nurse steps into the room, looking to Alex and George curiously. “Page Dr. Bailey for me.” The man nods and steps back out of the room.

George uses the napkin on his chin, though it only serves to remove part of it, leaving streaks of chocolate on his face. “You think it was another seizure?”

“I said your name twice.” Alex moves back around the bed, sitting down and leaning forward.

“I didn’t…” George’s face has paled, eyes big and worried. “Am, I-I’m not going to be able to…” His breathing hitches.

“O’Malley.”

George shakes his head, breathing far too heavily for someone laying in a bed. “I-I can’t…”

Alex moves then, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the bed remote. He starts to adjust the head of the bed upwards so that George can sit up slightly but makes sure not to contort him too much so that his injuries aren’t further agitated. Alex plants a gentle hand on his unharmed shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“O’Malley, look at me.”

George is still shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, I-I…”

“George, look at me.” He grabs the man’s chin, tipping his head up. His eyes blink open, watery and afraid. “Take a deep breath in through your mouth.” He pulls in a breath of his own.

George cautiously breathes in.

“Good, just keep your eyes on me and follow my lead.” He instructs calmly. “In through your nose,” Inhale. “Out through your mouth.” Exhale.

They sit like that for a few minutes, George following Alex’s breathing and mimicking it until he seems to be calming down. Alex has never had an anxiety attack before, but he’s had patients who have. The only solution is to get them to relax as best they can, in whatever way that distracts and maintains a good breathing pattern so that they don’t get lightheaded and pass out.

After he’s feeling more certain that the other is calmer, Alex speaks. “Better?”

“Y-Yeah…” George nods shakily, sinking tiredly back into his pillow. “Sorry.”

“Stop that.” Alex tells him, earning a mildly surprised look. “You’re entitled to a freak out over this, it’s… You’re scared, that’s all right.”

After a moment of quiet, George clears his throat. “Why are you being so nice to me? Why… Why are you even here?”

Alex thinks about that for a moment, thinks about telling him he’s just doing it for Izzie. But it’s not that simple, and he doesn’t want to piss George off or think this is some obligation.

“Look, you’re… A super nerd, a dork, lame as hell.”

“I’m feeling the love, thanks.”

“Just,” Alex glares at him, and he remains quiet. “We have mutual interests, mutual friends. I don’t get you, like at all sometimes. But us getting on each other’s nerves and being assholes on purpose doesn’t do it for me anymore.”

George is just staring at him, looking mildly baffled, when Bailey walks in.

“Karev, what the hell is going on?” She huffs.

“Alex thinks I had another seizure.” George speaks up, and Bailey’s irritation seems to be replaced with concern as she approaches the bed.

“What happened?” She pulls out her pen light from her lab coat, shining it in his eyes.

“He just stopped, he was blinking weird and he wouldn’t respond to me when I tried to speak to him. Might have been an absence seizure.”

“Those are rare in adults, are you sure?” She questions.

“He didn’t even remember me talking to him. I tried to get his attention two or three times.”

“George, anything feel off? Numbness, nausea, how’s your vision?”

“I-I feel okay…” He murmurs. “My arm’s starting to hurt though.”

Bailey checks his chart, then moves to adjust his IV, sighing as she steps back. “I’ll talk to Dr. Shepherd, we’ll run some tests. Good catch, Karev.”

“Dr. Bailey,” George calls before she can fully turn around to walk out. She turns her head. “Surgeons can’t have epilepsy, can they?” His voice shakes slightly, but he looks resigned.

“We don’t know anything for sure, O’Malley.” Bailey tells him quietly.

“I know, I-I’m just… I have this sinking feeling in my stomach, don’t you?” He asks quietly.

Alex doesn’t say that he has a similar feeling, and when he looks to Bailey, she looks almost as resigned as George. One seizure is one thing, but another doesn’t look too good. It spelled trouble, and George was unfortunately right. People could do a lot of things, but epilepsy is a complication that tended to be unpredictable. If George did develop a seizure disorder, then it could set him back even further in his recovery. If it’s not properly controlled, it could do more than that.

This could spell the end of George’s career before it starts.

“It’s not over until it’s over.” Bailey tells him, and then turns and walks out.


End file.
